


Stitches

by Control_Room, Random_ag



Series: Tortured Tales [25]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Angels, Character Death, Coming back to life, Guilt, Regret, Souls, implied past death, post death, pre game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:53:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27679685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_ag/pseuds/Random_ag
Summary: Let me back, let me back.
Relationships: (IMPLIED), Joey Drew/Henry Stein
Series: Tortured Tales [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023520
Kudos: 3





	Stitches

It was like jelly, almost.

He did not quite move.

He flowingly changed place and position, maybe even time, but he could not have said he had moved. He had floated, or rocked back and forth in the way a wave might have; but he could not say with complete clarity and certainty that he had truly moved at all. Aside from going up. But not up in the way humans know and feel it. 

It was simply going towards an idea of up. He knew he moved upward. He had no idea where he was being led to, but he moved slowly towards it, magnetized by some slow, invincible force he could not understand well, but enough to know that it was wholly good. It was a gentle ride; the sweet rising of an elevator towards a larger and loving body.

But was it right?

Some part of him felt… reluctant. Regretful.

Did he deserve this? Was he worthy of this call, this beckoning back to that realm, after abandoning the life in which he had so selfishly left all those who had once loved him through the way he would run away from his responsibilities?

His ascension ceased briefly with his doubt.

Others around him moved faster, some slower. Yet he was still. 

He took a moment to think, a long second suspended inside an empty space.

He rose to a sublime being just above him to have his query answered.

Excuse me, he said without voice nor mouth, I would like to speak with whoever is in charge. Would that be possible?

The figure looked at him without eyes, seeing all.

Surely, they answered him.

How can I reach them?, he asked in total silence.

The angel pointed upwards without hands or fingers: Keep rising, they replied in perfection, You will reach Them sooner than you think.

He thanked them, and resumed his ascension a little quicker than before.

He floated up, up, up, among a limited infinity of other beings, and then (just as the angel had said, much more repentinely that he would have imagined) he gazed around Them with the knowledge of respect, and They gazed into him as They did into all that exists.

It was quite intimidating to say the least.

Words escaped him. He did not know what to say. 

He could not explain it, but he could feel Their smile envelop him.

Speak to me, child.

He gulped nonexistent air down the throat he did not have. He could not muster any sound.

Worry not. I shall listen.

He took as long a breath as his lack of lungs could handle.

I would like to be with my darling again, he spoke softly. I would like to live again.

They gazed. Gently.

There is no way back.

But there must be!

If you find one, you may use it. 

I definitely will if I can.

Very well, then, child. Best of luck.

He trickled a little downwards, like a droplet on a flat glass surface. He did not know where to even start looking, but he would have found his way back. He would have had arms to hold his beloved again, and lips to kiss him, and a tongue to apologize forever to the heart he had carelessly broken.

It took time. He thought so, at least. Time did not exactly make sense there. However, eventually, there was an auditory shift. He could hear voices that were vaguely familiar.

Below.

He began descending, little by little, although it was much harder.

It was wooden. It appeared so at least. Wavering and snapping, it seemed to be forcing itself into the space he was residing in. 

It was almost physical.

He could touch it in the way that one touches without nerves. He touched it, but did not feel it.

He wanted to feel it.

Can I go? He asked.

That is up to you. You may go, and you could go, but will you?

He looked eyelessly at the wooden feeling he could not sense.

Once more he found himself stuck between two polars.

He could go- that much was told to him- but should he? Could he truly walk back into the adoring arms he had pushed away in fear with his head up, and truly believe all would have been forgiven without him even having to lift a finger?

Was he _that_ much of an audacious person to have that even cross his mind? Why was he used to his darling devil cleaning up his messes for him?

He pressed harder on the wooden feeling, nearly, but not quite, leaning against it. Part of him seemed to trickle down across it, another part seemed to lull within, and another was repulsed by the smooth and rough texture. Responsibility... the thought terrified him. But for once, he decided to take it.

He could not squeeze through, and began encircling the dual worldly structure to find an opening.

There was a door. 

Dare he go in?

He reached for the knob, and remembered, you needed a hand to turn those. 

What if he… moved himself to be within it already?

Moving time like his bee did? 

So as to imagine that he already was in his form, and that he had already turned the knob and entered into the strange space--

He was in a hallway.

One that felt sickeningly familiar.

Giddily, nauseatingly, awesomely familiar. 

“Okay Joey, I’m here,” he called, waiting for a reply. Nothing responded to his words. They emanated from him, but not from his mouth. He did not have one of those-- he had no need for it. 

He waited, and waited, and waited. The only sounds around him were ambience, a sad violin playing above and years before. 

Finally, he moved forward a legless step.

He felt eyes eagerly watching all around him.

“Let's see if we can find what you wanted me to see.”

Henry had the strangest sensation that he already did.


End file.
